


Coincidence Crowed

by There_Was_A_Star_Danced



Series: Meant To Be [1]
Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types, Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Affection, Affectionate Insults, Alternate Universe - Howl's Moving Castle Fusion, Alternate Universe - Labyrinth Fusion, Angst and Drama, Apprentice Michael, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Drama & Romance, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Family Drama, Goblin King Howl Pendragon, I own nothing but my ideas and ocs, It's a Crossover Folks, Labyrinth Citizen Ben Sullivan, Labyrinth Runner Lettie Hatter, Mystery, Patchwork Percival | Turnip Head, Slow Burn, Teenage Drama, The Author Regrets Nothing, Wished Away Martha Hatter, Wished Away Sophie Hatter, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22669795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/There_Was_A_Star_Danced/pseuds/There_Was_A_Star_Danced
Summary: "In the land of Ingary, where such things as magic potions and ten-league boots exist, it is quite unlucky to be born the eldest of three. In a land called Ingary, a hat shop girl was cursed by a witch and fell in love with a heartless man. In a land called Ingary, a slithery wizard met his stubborn match, and loved her, even for his lack of heart.But this world was not that world, and Coincidence is a cruel master. Different choices led to different consequences and split paths that should never have been separated. But Fate has a way of intervening, and people who are destined to be together will find their way, through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered."In a fit of frenzy, Lettie wishes Sophie and Martha into the hands of the Goblin King. Howl wishes fervently that he could have refused to take them, especially when his apprentice always seems to disappear with the younger of the two wished aways and the older girl turns his castle and his life upside down while always seeming to neatly interfere when he tries to court his lovely runner. Not that the runner even seems aware of his presence.Hmph. And Jareth thought HE had it bad.
Relationships: Calcifer & Howl Pendragon, Howl Pendragon & Jareth, Jareth/Sarah Williams, Lettie Hatter/Ben Sullivan | Wizard Suliman, Michael Fisher & Howl Pendragon, Michael Fisher/Martha Hatter, One Sided Howl Pendragon/Lettie Hatter, Sophie Hatter/Howl Pendragon
Series: Meant To Be [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630831
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

In the land of Ingary, where such things as magic potions and ten-league boots exist, it is quite unlucky to be born the eldest of three. In a land called Ingary, a hat shop girl was cursed by a witch and fell in love with a heartless man. In a land called Ingary, a slithery wizard met his stubborn match, and loved her, even for his lack of heart.

But that land is not this land. True, its name _was_ Ingary. Or rather, Engary. And it bore many resemblances to that land I just told you off. But it was not that land. For one thing, in the town of Market Chipping, if you asked anyone to direct you to Hatter’s Hat Shop, they would laugh in your face.

“What a funny notion! The Hatter family used to sell flowers, but their shop’s all boarded up now, and for sale. Mrs. Hatter as was, the second Mrs. Hatter that is, who survived her husband, she married again. Mrs. Smith, she is now. Lives in a mansion at the end of the valley. She took her three girls with her, too. But you won’t find any Hatter’s Hat Shop in Market Chipping.”

Another odd change would be the complete absence of any Wizard Howl.

“Howl? An odd name for a Wizard, to be sure. Royal Wizard, you say? No, we don’t have a Royal Wizard. We have a Royal Witch, though. Witch Angorian. She came to favor after Wizard Suliman and Prince Justin disappeared. Found proof they died on an adventure, she did. Are you sure he was Royal Wizard? What was his last name now? Many wizards go by their last names. Wizard Pendragon? Sorceror Jenkins? No, none of them sound familiar. You must be mistaken.”

Yes, this world was not that world, and Coincidence is a cruel master. Different choices led to different consequences and split paths that should never have been separated. But Fate has a way of intervening, and people who are destined to be together will find their way, through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered.

* * *

It was not entirely true that Howl’s name was not spoken of in Engary. But it was certainly not false. His name, or rather his title, was not spoken _aloud._ He was spoken of in whispers at bedtime, and his title flew among the street urchins at night. To some, it was a name of fear. To others, a cautionary tale. And to some… yes, to some it was a name of hope.

“There’s no such things as goblins.”

“I’ll say the words!”

“Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be…”

“No, I mustn’t say…”

“The goblins will a getcha if ya don’t watch out!”

“I wish… I wish…”

“I wish the goblins would come and take me away, right now!”

Howell Jenkins glanced up from the book he was reading. _Someone had said the words._ And this wasn’t a spiteful, angry voice either. This was pitiful, this one. He hated these kinds. There was often nothing he could do about them.

Megan lifted the sock she was darning. “Really, Howell, I don’t know how you can get such holes in your clothes-”

“Is that the time?” Howell asked suddenly, leaping up. “So sorry Megan, I just remembered something very important that I can’t postpone. I probably won’t be back tonight.”

“You’re not going out drinking again?” Megan’s face scowled. “You know how it upsets Gareth.”

“No no, nothing of the sort.” Howell ducked out of the house and slammed the door behind him, hard. “That’s not the original plan at least,” he amended to himself, turning the handle again and finding it opening onto a dingy stone room.

He ran in, forming a crystal in his hand and tossing it in the air with a shower of glitter. The glitter followed him, wrapping around him like a cloud until his clothes changed from jeans and a t-shirt into a poet’s shirt, a long, trailing coat with ornate sleeves, and loose pants with comfortable calf boots. Raising a hand to his ear, he released a glamour, showing off the single draping jewel in one ear and the make-up that smoothed and enhanced his face. Megan would have a fit if she knew.

He breathed a sigh of relief, marching straight to a low hearth with the air of one in authority, who demands and is instantly met with his desires.

“Calcifer,” He spoke to the fire, as it flared and fizzed, raising a blue face with orange eyes and curly green flame hair to him.

“The boy is in your throne room already. The goblins were quite prompt with him. He’s a thin little waif, Howl. Comes from Engary. And I can smell salt on him, he must have come from the sea.”

“Thanks. Will you want to watch our little meeting?”

“Of course. As long as I don’t have to call you ”Your Majesty“.”

Howl, King of the Goblins, grinned at his friend. “I ought to break our contract for that, I suppose, Old Blue Face. That could be construed as treason, you know.”

“Go see to your job, you fool,” whined the fire, sinking low in the hearth.

Howl took another deep breath, allowing the past nagging of his sister and the complaining of Calcifer and his worries for the waif to fall away. He closed his eyes for just a moment, remembering his predecessor. The sharp teeth, the strange eyes, the majestic sweep of the eyebrows. Howl could never hope to be as intimidating. So he settled for a languid indifference and haughty aloofness. It seemed to work best as his persona of the Goblin King.

Pushing open the door, Howl stepped through into his throne room. Goblins scuttled away from his boots, some rolling, some leaping, some trying to fly. With all their squawking, it was entirely possible to come up behind the boy who had called on the goblins for help without being noticed.

The boy was talking to Calcifer. Actually talking to him. He was dressed in rags and had crawled close to the fire demon for warmth. But somewhere along the way he had started talking to Calcifer and seemed reasonably alright with it. He was telling Calcifer his story.

“… and my mother used to mend his nets. She would go out with him in the boat at night. Only one night a storm blew up while they were out on the sea, and…” the boy choked a bit here, “the boat capsized. They died out there. I tried to hold on to the house as long as I could, but there was only so much I could do. No one wanted me, so I just roamed the streets as long as I could, but I kept getting turned out of people’s doorways. And then there was nowhere else to go, and I remembered a story my mother told me once of the Goblin King. And it seemed like being turned into a goblin would be better than nothing, so I wished myself away.”

“That sounds like a very sad reason to wish yourself to the care of the Goblin King.”

“I agree. And I am the Goblin King.”

The boy jumped and turned, looking around behind him to the tall gangly man in the ornate clothes who leaned so casually on the throne.

“Y-your Majesty!” He stood and bowed, a little awkwardly, but decently.

Howl nodded. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Michael, sir. Michael Fisher.”

“Well, Michael, you know the consequences of calling on me, don’t you? If no one comes to run the Labyrinth for you?”

Michael bowed his head. “Yes, sir. I become a goblin.”

“Hmm.” Howl narrowed his eyes, looking the boy over. He didn’t seem diseased, or dangerously malnourished. He just seemed skinny and desperate for a roof over his head and a little security. Howl really did dislike these cases. “How long have you been here?”

Michael looked confused, but Calcifer spoke up. “Only half an hour.”

Howl nodded. “Well then. It seems you have twelve and a half hours left. I would employ them wisely. Calcifer, make a warm meal for him and heat some water for a bath. I’ll come back by the time you’ve finished your meal, boy and show you where you are to stay and we’ll see about some better clothes.”

“But, if I’m only going to become a goblin anyway, sir, why wait? No one will run the Labyrinth for me.”

“Are you questioning me, Michael?” Howl raised an eyebrow.

“N-no, sir.”

“Good. I’m off now, but I’ll be back soon.” Howl turned on the heel of his boot and stalked out of the room and into the impossible staircase room. Navigating it easily, for he’d had a lot of practice, he made his way through the planes of existence until he reached a specific door and knocked on it a certain pattern before twisting the door and stepping through.

He pulled it shut behind him and turned around, wincing in the sudden sunlight. As his eyes adjusted, he blinked and looked out on the familiar scene of an isolated cottage in Ireland, with a circular garden surrounding it and an inviting path leading to the door. Leaving behind the small shed, he went up the path without bothering to change clothes, and knocked on the door, entering before anyone had time to answer.

“Howl!”

“Moon Wolf! What brings you here?”

Howl glanced at the two occupants of the room. One was a man, as tall and lanky as himself, but with strange eyes and a wild smile. The other was a woman, only a head shorter than either of them, with bright green eyes and a kind smile. She was also heavily pregnant. He nodded to both of them.

“Jareth, Sarah. I need your help. Oh,” he hastened to reassure them as the turned wildly to each other, “it’s nothing serious. Just a matter of logistics and advice. I’ve run into a bit of a personal problem regarding the Labyrinth.”

Jareth waved a languid hand to a chair and Howl gratefully sank into it.

“Well, Moon Wolf, tell me what the matter is.”

“There’s a boy who wished himself away to the Labyrinth.”

Jareth raised an eyebrow, and Howl didn’t blame him. He knew the protocol for self-wish-aways.

“I just don’t feel right about turning him into a goblin, and it’s not just about personal feelings. Except that it is, I guess. He’s a perfectly healthy boy, early teenage years. He’s just tired and hungry and desperate for a roof over his head and figured that being turned into a goblin was better than nothing at all.”

Jareth sank into the opposite chair, Sarah standing beside him. Howl was glad that Sarah stayed. Jareth tended to slip back into his old ways when talking about the Labyrinth and Sarah often played the part of his conscience.

“I don’t want to turn him into a goblin, it’s not like the other street urchins who are used to this kind of life and who only wish themselves away because they’re dying. This boy lost his parents and needs help, not … well, you see what I mean. Not punishment.”

Jareth’s eyes flashed. “I thought I told you that to be a goblin king you had to be ruthless. It doesn’t matter what your personal feelings are on the matter. And being turned into a goblin is a consequence, not a punishment.”

“No, I know. And in most cases, I do agree with you. But now and again being turned into a goblin is a downgrade, not an upgrade.”

Jareth snorted. “It’s a downgrade in every situation, Howl. But as I said before, a consequence, not a punishment.”

“And I understand that. You were my teacher in this, remember? But it still doesn’t make sense to follow through on the consequences for this particular boy.”

The two men stared across the fireplace at each other, neither willing to budge.

Sarah spoke up. “Jareth, you told me that you wouldn’t have turned Toby into a goblin. Why is that?”

Sometimes Howl marveled at Sarah. That a woman could trust a man as tricky and slippery as Jareth to have told the truth to her at any time was something that he couldn’t wrap his head around. She never doubted Jareth would never have turned Toby into a goblin after he had once told her that.

“I wanted him to become my heir, Precious Thing. He reminded me of myself, as did that one.” He pointed to Howl, who grinned slightly.

“Did that change when you fell for me?” Sarah asked.

“Only slightly. Only when you won.” Jareth admitted.

Howl could see Sarah thinking, filing that away for answers another time. Then she shook herself and turned back to the conversation.

“So it is possible to spare a child from becoming a goblin if they are the intended heir to the throne?” Sarah asked, glancing between the two men. Howl sat up, interested, as Jareth leaned back, shocked.

“Absolutely not. I refuse to have raised an heir that passed on his kingdom so quickly. He’s only had it for a year!”

“But let’s not let this idea go too quickly,” Howl interjected. “It’s possible that instead of an heir, I take Michael on as… well, let’s say an apprentice. I don’t think he’s fit to be the Goblin King, but I could teach him magic.”

“Somehow I don’t see that working,” Jareth interjected.

“I think it could. I think I could make it work. After all, a kingdom needs a court. And I can’t always attend to matters immediately, so it would be good to have someone who could share the weight.” Howl leaped up and beamed at Jareth and Sarah. “Thank you! Both of you! I see what I can do now.”

Before Jareth could object again, Howl dashed out of the cottage and down the long path again, knocking in the same pattern on the door of their tool shed and disappearing back to the Goblin Castle.

Jareth went to the door and watched as his heir and apprentice disappeared. Sarah came up and tucked herself under his arm in approved wifely fashion.

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” he murmured under his breath to her, “that boy will get himself into trouble one of these days.”

“Let him,” she said, with her loving cruelty. “I know you, my love. If you were concerned Howl was endangering himself, that he never would have left here alone. You’d have insisted on handling it yourself before he could get a word in edgewise. But you can’t keep interfering, and he can’t keep running to you. So, let him mess up. Let him get into scrapes. We’ll be here if it gets out of hand.”

She kissed her husband’s shoulder and they turned back into the cottage, closing the door behind them.

* * *

Three years after a young fisher’s son disappeared from Porthaven, a storm the like of which had never been seen before blew up within the Smith’s Mansion down at the end of the valley.

Fanny Smith, the erstwhile Fanny Hatter, had flatly refused to let her second step-daughter practice magic.

“It’s just not practical, Dear! We can’t have all three of you become witches, can we? You’d take the world by storm! And Martha does have the best chance at success, now doesn’t she Lettie dear?”

Lettie. Was. Furious.

Hours after Fanny and Mr. Smith had left for their night on the town, Lettie was still pacing like a caged tigress in her room. Sophie, the eldest girl, and Martha, Fanny’s only real daughter, had come in to try and calm Lettie down, but they hadn’t made much progress.

“Oh, it’s so utterly, miserably unfair! Why should Martha have the best of everything?” Lettie flung up her fair and shapely hands gesturing wildly. Her brown curls bounced around her face and shone in the firelight of the room. There was a healthy flush on her face, her eyes were bright as jewels, and her pink gown twisted and turned around her like a hurricane as she fumed.

“She is the third sister,” Sophie sighed, looking up from the dress she was darning for Fanny. Fanny always said Sophie was better with a needle than any seamstress in town and never looked outside her home for smaller repairs or becoming dresses. Sophie sat hunched over the dress in the chair closest to the fire. Her dress was an unbecoming grey, her eyes were red from the strain of sewing, and her working hand was beginning to develop a blister where the needle always rubbed it. Her fair, red-gold hair was as thick as Lettie’s but she had it pulled back into a sober bun instead of flowing loosely about her face. Her mouth was already starting to become permanently pinched, too. And she was only eighteen.

Martha, the sister under discussion, winced as Sophie repeated the familiar argument. Her gold hair was more yellow than red, though it still hung around her face in the Hatter curls. Her wide blue eyes did more taking in than their innocence suggested, and her rosebud mouth was pinched too as she worked out where the argument was likely to go. Where the argument had always gone.

“We’re not really three sisters, though,” she murmured. “We’re two sisters and one sister. Doesn’t that change anything, Sophie?”

Sophie shook her head. “Not to my mind. You’re still the youngest of three. And if anything, that should just make us evil! Which is far worse off than just... well, just unlucky. No, I’m happy to just consider us three sisters. We must try to make the most of our destiny.”

“I don’t believe that!” Lettie stormed back into the circle of two by the fire.

“We know, Lettie,” spoke Sophie and Martha in unison. It wasn’t unkindly meant, but coming together changed the meaning of it from placation to an attack.

“No! You don’t! Martha may not want to do amazing things, but Sophie’s resigned herself to a far worse fate! You’re not just resigned to being unlucky, Sophie, you’re enabling Fanny to believe the same thing!” Lettie fumed, pointing an accusing finger at her older sister.

“With all your talk of stories and destiny, and how things should be done, you’re playing into Fanny’s pride and right into her hands! She believes that she’s somehow special for having the youngest of three and that somehow Martha will be more special because of that! And I don’t blame her with the way you believe it yourself! But if you stuck up for yourself and had a tenth of the spunk either of us has, you would be able to change Fanny’s mind and then none of us would be stuck with destinies that we don’t want!”

Sophie was gaping at her sister, hurt and angry at the cruel words.

“No!” Sophie gasped, “No! That’s not true, that can’t be true! Martha, say something, she’s talking about your mother!”

Martha’s mouth was still pursed and her eyes were worried as she clutched her hands around her knees and twiddled her thumbs in a frenzy. She opened her mouth to speak, but Lettie forestalled her.

“No! Don’t look to Martha! Don’t look to the special one!” She almost spat out the last words in her wrath, but she was too worked up to do anything differently. She could only speak on and on, growing madder and madder. Sophie and Martha cowered against the blazing anger of Lettie, shocked and horrified by the change in their beloved sister. Or maybe it wasn’t a change. Maybe she had been like this all along. How had they never noticed this side of her?

“Look in yourself, Sophie! You know it’s true! You know that it’s your belief in fairytales that’s keeping us trapped like this! This is all your fault! If you want to be stuck in a fairytale so bad, you ought to be! You really ought to be trapped at the hands of a wicked king and then you can play the victim to your heart’s delight! And I wish you’d take Martha with you to be your hero and leave me in peace!”

* * *

In the underground, gasps were heard and yellow eyes all opened. Calcifer flickered up from his grate and stared at the sky with a worried gaze. The Goblin King looked up from where he was teaching his apprentice a spell to ask what the matter was. He was greeted with “shh”s and a fateful phrase.

“She’s going to say the words!”

* * *

“I wish I was somewhere far away from this terrible place!”

Lettie advanced on the two terrified girls, who had moved closer together for support.

”And I wish you both get what you deserve! Spouting nonsense and fairytales as if they made any difference in how we live our lives!“

Thunder crackled outside the window where there had been no storm before.

“I wish… ” Lettie flung her eyes around in wild despairing madness

“I wish…” her eyes landed on a statue, a tall man in a billowing cloak, holding out a crystal and crowded round by little fantastical creatures.

* * *

**_“I WISH THE GOBLINS WOULD COME AND TAKE YOU BOTH AWAY RIGHT NOW!”_ **

* * *

Howl grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

Three screams came simultaneously as the fire blew out into the room and was extinguished, along with every candle, every lamp, every glowing ember. From a room blazing with lights, there was only darkness now. The faintest glow came from the moon outside as it peered through banks of clouds and reflected against the mirrors in the room.

Lettie slowly picked herself up from the floor, shaken and repentant. The sudden darkness had blinded her, and all she could see was the lightning and thunder outside.

“Sophie? Martha? Are you alright?” Lettie asked cautiously. It felt like a dagger in her heart when she remembered their terrified expressions.

There was no response.

“Sophie? Martha?” She called again, softer now.

Something cackled in the darkness and disappeared in her bedside table with a thump. Lettie jumped and squeaked at the sound. Then there was silence.

“Girls? Where are you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” her apology was cut short by another series of cackles, one right after the other, flowing around the room.

Something furry brushed by Lettie’s hands with a hiss and she leaped to her feet with a stifled scream. More cackling laughter flowed around the room followed by loud BANGs as cupboard doors closed again.

 _I’m mad…_ thought Lettie, desperately, _I’m dreaming. There are no such things as Goblins._

A large Raven slammed against the window, flapping wildly against the panes. Lettie screamed again, then spun to catch her cupboard doors moving again. There was a brown lump tumbling down her curtains at an alarming speed and that Raven was still flapping against the window.

Even as Lettie turned to the window again, a loud CAW sounded and the windows flew in on themselves. The Raven flashed in, flying against Lettie’s face, then circling and circling the room as Lettie fell to the floor again, covering her head with yet another scream.

Abruptly, all the noise stopped.

Lettie carefully raised her head and looked straight into a pair of green glass eyes.

* * *

Howl had all he could do to prevent from gasping. Goblin King or no, he knew a pretty girl when he saw one, and the girl gazing up at him with tear-stained eyes– _The Wisher_ , his mind supplied–was one of the loveliest girls he’d ever seen.

Glittering silver moonlight from the window glanced over glossy brown-black curls and shone in her tearful blue-green eyes. Her lovely round rose-bud mouth was made all the rounder by the fact that it was dropped in astonishment and disbelief. He watched as it formed the words “Goblin King,” on a breathy gasp.

And then the girl was on her feet and hurling something hard at his head.

He flung up an arm on instinct and the object, a statuette, glanced off it and fell to the floor with a crash. As his arm fell to get another look at the girl, he found her advancing on him, a poker waving threateningly in her grip. In an instant, he’d caught the poker and wrenched it from her grasp, succeeding as he did so in pulling her off balance toward himself. On instinct, he reached out to catch her as she fell and she landed awkwardly in his arms, only to immediately right herself and begin flinging her fists against the armor he had– _fortunately,_ a voice that sounded like Calcifer hissed in his head–remembered to don before he came.

As the girl continued flinging herself against him and screaming obscenities she should _not_ have known, Howl found himself–for the first time since he inherited the Labyrinth–quite surprised by this reaction. And then he wondered why he was. After all, it was called a freeze, flight, _or fight_ reaction for a reason.

Shaking himself and slowly coming back to the realization that having a teenage girl beating against you hysterically was not conducive to being the calm and aloof Goblin King, Howl grabbed the girl’s shoulders and shook her, setting her back and away from him.

“Hell’s Teeth, get ahold of yourself girl!” he shouted at her.

She wrenched herself from his hands and spoke in a frantic gasp.

“Give them back! Give them back this instant, Goblin King!” She screeched at him. She had fire, this one. And as much as Howl hated unpleasantness, he found himself admiring how it flushed her cheeks and made her eyes sparkle.

He arched an eyebrow at her and mentally asked Calcifer for any information the demon had. He received it quickly. The girl’s name was Lettie. The Wished-Aways were her sisters, Sophie and Martha, of Eighteen and Fourteen years respectively. Both were currently still in a state of shock and being tended to by Michael.

“What’s said is said, Lettie,” He spoke, pleased at the hiss that came from the girl as he said her name. She hadn’t expected that. He felt his control of the situation coming back and grinned.

“But I didn’t mean it! I would never mean it!” Her hands clenched and unclenched frantically.

“Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t they still be here now if you didn’t mean it?” The tease came naturally to his lips.

“Look here, Goblin King, you will return my sisters or so help me you will find yourself in a WORLD of trouble!” She advanced on him and without thinking, he flinched and stood straighter.

She faltered and they stood in a stalemate.

“Believe me, most lovely Lettie, I would return your sisters if I was able,” he spoke, “But I am bound by my magic and what is said is said.”

“But they didn’t deserve it! It’s not fair!” Lettie wailed.

Howl sighed mournfully. “It was not my wish to take them, but yours to make them go. They are now at my castle and will stay there until they become my subjects forever.”

“I don’t accept that,” Lettie shook her head furiously, still breathing hard, “I refuse to accept it. There must be something I can do.”

“Nothing,” he formed a crystal and rolled it in his hands, not quite skilled enough to juggle it yet. “Well, nothing unless… But no, I couldn’t offer that.”

She stamped her foot and Howl bit back his grin with a supreme effort. It didn’t fit the words or manner he was projecting, and would ruin everything if she saw it.

“What is it, what is it? Stop being so cruel! How can I save them?”

With a flick of the wrist, he held out the crystal to her.

“If you take this crystal, all of your dreams will come true. You will forget you ever had sisters and they will be given a new life with no memory of you and what you did. If you do not take the crystal, you–and they–will always remember what happened.”

Lettie chewed her lip. Howl held his breath.

“Are… are those my only two options?”

 _Clever Girl!_ Howl almost cheered.

“There… is a third,” he admitted as if it were being dragged out of him, “But I would not suggest it.”

“That’s my choice to make,” Lettie’s chin thrust out defiantly.

Howl bowed and motioned to the window. “Very well. If you take the third option, you have thirteen hours to run my Labyrinth. If you do not die, and if you do not fail, then you will all be returned home. But if you fail, you and your sisters will become citizens of my kingdom forever.”

Lettie moved over to the window and watched as it became a portal, showing the sweeping vestiges of the Labyrinth running like veins out from the castle, a tiny pinprick at its center. Her eyes were somehow both focused and unfocused, calculating in her mind and mapping out the distances of the maze before her. Howl took the chance to glance over her form and get a closer look at her face. As with every time he had looked closer at her so far, she grew all the lovelier under his inspection.

With a quick little jerk of the head, she turned to face him again, almost catching his lingering gaze.

“I’ll do it. I’ll risk the Labyrinth.”

“Lettie, think better,” he pleaded. “Whether you win or lose, neither you nor your sisters will ever forget your time there, or what caused it.”

She blanched a little but rallied. “I don’t care. It serves me right. But I’ll solve your little Labyrinth and win my sisters back, you’ll see.”

Howl shrugged, running the crystal in his hands again. “That is a pity. Your dreams are such lovely ones, too. And My Labyrinth is no place for a beautiful young flower like yoursel-”

Lettie reached out and slapped his hand. He started and dropped the crystal in pure shock. She glared at him, her lips pinched into a thin white line.

“Enough,” she spoke through gritted teeth. “It’s bad enough that I have to run the Goblin King’s silly Labyrinth without having to listen to a lot of stupid talk from him first. I said I’ll run it. What’s said is said, remember?”

She curtsied sarcastically and motioned out the window. “Well? Shall we, Your Majesty? Chop-chop, I don’t have forever, you know.”

Howl, acting completely automatically, bowed back sarcastically and held out his arm. Lettie rolled her eyes and took it, and they stepped through the window and onto the hill above his Labyrinth. His emotions were shaken, not stirred, like the good hard drink he needed. It was three parts shock to one part each of anger, amusement, and exasperation.

He was still acting automatically when he released her hand from his arm and stepped away to reveal the clock hung in the tree with the thirteen fateful numbers on its face.

“When the hour and minute hand reach the top as one, your time will begin. You have thirteen hours in which to solve the labyrinth, or you and both your sisters will be my citizens forever.” He and the clock started to fade back to his castle as the hour and minute hands clicked toward the top of the clock. “May the Labyrinth grant you every advance.” His words rung out over the hill, even as his form grew intangible and evaporated.

He reappeared in his study in the Castle beyond the Goblin City. He felt the need to repair his tattered pride before facing Calcifer and his two wished aways. He paled a bit at the thought that they were Lettie’s sisters but quickly shook it away. It became easier to breathe the longer the distance between himself and Lettie was firmly established. Admiration was not exactly the word on Howl’s tongue anymore, but neither was any form of dislike. She was challenging, this girl, and he appreciated a challenge, even as it startled him.

As the memory of her pertness faded and left only the memory of her lovely face and figure, Howl began to wonder what it would be like to have that lovely face smile on him instead of scowl. And what if perhaps he could steal a kiss before she left, and maybe steal her heart as well? He ran a hand over the place on his chest that should have been above his heart, trying to ignore that he could feel no movement there and hear no steady beat.

Maybe he could try again. Just because he couldn’t love properly before doesn’t mean this time wouldn’t be different.

He straightened up, calm enough now to face Calcifer and meet his wished-aways. The green glass eyes glazed for a moment as they stared into the fire and a smile twitched his lips. Dramatically, he placed his finger-tips to his lips and blew a kiss out the window.

“Lovely lovely Lettie,” he breathed, before turning to leave the room.

**Author's Note:**

> What the heck is this? ... No idea.   
> Come on, though, if you've gone on my page at all, you knew this had to be coming sooner or later.   
> Ah well. I hope you all enjoy... whatever this is. Come talk to me if you have any questions. :)   
> (Psst. My Tumblr is there-was-a-star-danced-ao3 if you're interested.)  
> *waves*  
> ~Bea


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